Happy Black Friday, lovelies! I hope your day has been full of fun – whether time with family, time with friends, or time all to yourself! To top off our day-long whirlwind of fabulous excerpts, the one I’ve chosen below is from the very beginning of my historical novella Desire Rising. It’s a tough scene, because our heroine is fending off an attack by her husband from hell. But we’re all about girl power at Lady Smut, and this scene is when my heroine, Lucy, has finally had enough. She’s finding her inner strength, which is something we all celebrate here at Lady Smut.
Remember to comment on any of the excerpts you’ve seen her today and you’ll be eligible to win our deliciously sinful Black Friday “Basket of Sin” giveaway basket! The winner will be announced tomorrow so be sure to check back in. In the meantime, I hope you enjoy the excerpt.
From Desire Rising:
His breeches were loose, and while lying atop Lucy, he shook them free so they fell from his legs to a heap upon the floor. No longer restricted, he pinned Lucy’s arms onto the bed while inching up her body until he could straddle her face and dangle his limp member before her lips.
“Suck,” he commanded, wiggling his buttocks so his sex swung to and fro, as if to entice her.
Lucy clamped her lips shut and shook her head, struggling furiously to get out from beneath him. The noxious odor of his cock and balls sickened her, and bile rose in her throat at the thought of having to pleasure him.
“Do it,” he growled, lowering himself so the saggy wrinkled foreskin of his cock brushed Lucy’s lips.
She turned her head as far away as she could manage while still thrashing about, trying to rid herself of the oaf. Her refusal would enrage him, but she would not succumb to his demands. Not again.
He roared with anger and slapped her hard, striking the side of her cheek against her teeth and breaking the skin inside her mouth. A trickle of blood oozed between her lips.
Paying no heed to her injury, John pressed his advantage, using his knees to pin down her arms. With both of his palms splayed on either side of her face, he steadied her head to position it just beneath his dangling cock. He pressed his thumbs against her lips, attempting to pry them open.
Blind fury pumped through Lucy’s veins. She would not have this horrid, sweaty, disgusting pile of offal force her into doing one more thing against her will. It mattered not that he was her husband; after two long years of this behavior, she’d had enough.
With every ounce of strength she possessed, Lucy brought her head forward like a medieval battering ram and slammed it into John’s balls.
“Son of a whore!” he screamed, clutching his groin and rolling to his side.
In a split second, Lucy scampered off the bed. The door was straight ahead, her escape hatch from hell. Her feet touched the floor and she took a single step, fleeing toward sanctuary.
The vise-like grip of John’s hand in her hair stopped her cold.
“No!” Her cries filled the room as he reeled her back toward him, hapless as a fish on a line. She jerked violently against his hold, ignoring the searing pain as strands of her hair ripped from her scalp. No amount of struggling would get her free, and she stumbled backward as John pulled her to where he sat on the side of the bed. She fell into his lap and he wrapped his arms around her waist. She writhed against his grip, shrieking in frustration.
“Oh, so you like it rough, do you, Lucy?” he growled in her ear, smothering her in a toxic cloud of hot, fetid breath.
“Let go of me!” She turned toward him and swung out, aiming anywhere on his body to hurt him.
Her fingers curled in a fist as her arm whipped around like a weighted pendulum and suddenly connected with the side of his bloated face. A brittle crack rent the air as bone connected with bone, Lucy’s fist on her husband’s jaw. A bolt of pain roared through her hand. She cried out, shaking her throbbing fingers.
“Damnation, you bloody bitch!”
His eyes had narrowed to slits but flashed with stark raving fury. Terror clenched her heart like a fist from hell. Jerking hard against him, she at last broke free and flew across the room. John bellowed like an enraged bull. Lucy twisted the handle, swung the door open, and chanced a look back to see how closely he followed.
John shoved himself up and away from the bed. He took a step, attempting to give chase, when his feet became tangled in the discarded heap of his trousers still lying on the floor.
“Ah!” His cry echoed in the room as he lost balance while struggling to free himself.
He fell forward, toward the fireplace, arms uselessly pinwheeling as his temple caught the edge of the marble mantel. Breath whooshed from his lungs. His knees buckled and he sank, striking his head sharply against the unforgiving stone hearth. The crack of his skull was like the brittle snap of breaking winter ice. He lay where he’d fallen, immobile, his eyes wide open in an unseeing stare, his lips parted but silent.